The first time we were in the attic I saw that Fabian was wearing a necklace. I didn't see what was on it, but I knew I wanted to know. After a few days I noticed that he always put it under his shirt. I was going to ask him about it today after school. Today was Friday so no one would be home after school. Trudy was going shopping and Victor had some weird meeting he was going to. School was boring, most days it was. Fabian and I walked home not really talking, that was all right though it was comfortable. When we were almost at the house I started talking.
"Fabian?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did." He chuckled at his joke and I smiled.
"Why do you always wear that necklace?"
"That is quite a story."
"Can you tell me?"
"Sure."
By that time we were back at the house, in Fabian and Mick's room.
"Why don't you get changed first? I'll help you with the math if you want."
I smiled, nodded and went up to my room. I changed into my favorite jeans, a tee-shirt that used to be Fabian's (he doesn't know that I have it. It was a laundry mix up that I just didn't fix.) and a hoodie. I went back to his room. He was sitting on his bed in a white tee-shirt, his plaid jacket, and a pair of jeans. He of cores had the math homework half finished. I sat down on his bed next to him.
"So, about that story?"
"All right. It's a pick, my mum's pick actually. It was her lucky pick. The one she used the night she and my dad meet. My dad gave it to me on my birthday the year I started playing the guitar. It was also the year before I came here."
"Why didn't your mom give it to you? If it was her pick then why did your dad give it to you?"
"Because she died when I was three. She was having heart problems and ended up having s heart attack."
"Oh my god, Fabian I am so sorry."
"It was a long time ago. I don't really remember her. My dad says I'm just like her though. He also says the she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, but what made her beautiful was that she shined from the inside out."
He was playing with the pick like he does it all the time, not really thinking about it. It was a silver pick on a piece of leather. The silver was faded like it had been used a lot. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen and I told him so. I don't think he heard me, it was like he was somewhere else. He starts his story like there was never a pause.
"That's why I don't go to see my uncle too often. He's my mum's brother. It just means a lot to me, the necklace I mean. I like having it with me, even if I never really knew her. It feels like home."
He had stopped playing with it. I had started to finger my ring that my parents had given me two years before they died.
"I know what you mean."
I did. I knew what it was like to have a thing that feels like home and I hopped that nothing ever happened to our homes. Not as long as I could help it.
